‘Where then?’
‘The River Dordogne in France.’
‘Well, it’s perfect here. You’ll warm up once you get moving. Just don’t go out too far.’
‘Not like you?’
He inclined his head and kept pace with her as she began to swim a slightly hesitant breaststroke. Then he pulled away, his professional-looking crawl enabling him to slice through the water at speed.
‘Don’t go any further out,’ he called back to her.
She was enjoying her own leisurely pace, lost in thebeauty of the sea and the expanse of periwinkle blue sky. There was barely any wind and once she’d warmed up she closed her eyes and floated, feeling peaceful without any sense of how far out she might be. But suddenly, with no warning, the sea surged and her legs were swept under her as she was forced further out. She shouted for him, her arms flailing as she thrashed at the water, trying to resist the force of a current that was now dragging her along. In her panic she went under, then managed to come up for air, but with water in her mouth and nostrils she coughed and spluttered. She tried to swim sideways to free herself from the current, but it held her in its grip and she was moving along much faster now. Oh God, why hadn’t she listened to him? Every time she surfaced she was dragged back under. She felt herself sinking again and again but each time was able to rise and stay afloat for a few more moments, keeping her face just above the surface, long enough to gasp for air. She panted as images began flashing through her mind. She could not let this happen and yet it was. The pulling sensation became even more powerful and now, as it took her under, she had nothing left with which to struggle. As the overwhelming power of the current held her down, she knew she couldn’t fight back and was going to sink …
With one final burst of energy, she fought and rose again, screaming. Terrified she was drowning, she screamed once more before swallowing water. Suddenly Bobby’s arms were around her, hauling them both out of the current and back towards the beach.
Once on the sand she fell to her knees coughing and crying at the same time. When she could finally manage to speak, she staggered to her feet and faced him.
‘You absolute bastard! I could have died out there. Why the hell weren’t you keeping an eye on me?’
He stiffened. ‘You said you were a strong swimmer.’
‘I told you I had never swum in the sea before.’
She tried to maintain her dignity as she stalked up the shifting sand to where she’d dropped her clothes then, with difficulty, tugged them on over her soaking wet things, not caring how it looked. He followed and tried to hand her a towel which she ignored.
‘Now take me home,’ she hissed. ‘And after this I never want to see you again for as long as I live.’
CHAPTER 28
That night Riva dreamt of sinking, felt the sea dragging her away from life and that awful sensation of going under again, the stinging salty water in her nostrils, in her throat, and in her eyes. When she woke she struggled for breath, gasping, choking, crying. She hated Bobby for caring so little about her and yet a small voice in her head was whispering that she was to blame. He was right. She had lied about being a strong swimmer and he had warned her about the currents. She had been stupid, wanting to impress, but still she couldn’t let go of her anger.
She got out of bed and as she threw open her shutters, she blinked at the harsh light of another bright day. Missing her misty Parisian mornings and her early morning chocolate in a favourite cup brought in by the maid, she sat on her bed and glanced at her clock. Still early. What was she going to do with herself until she could go to work? Maybe she could go and see Lottie. She didn’t want to bealone today feeling so blue and out of sorts. Her mind was in turmoil as she roamed over the events at the beach, and she wished she hadn’t sounded so accusing. The image of Bobby’s naked body, his back towards her, kept repeating over and over and she only partly succeeded in shaking it off.
She grabbed her robe and went out onto the landing where she heard subdued sobbing. She listened at Paloma and Brigitte’s doors but there was only silence there. The sobs seemed to be coming from the floor below, and as she tiptoed down in her bare feet she realised something was going on in the new girl’s room. Riva froze. Should she intervene? She didn’t want to intrude on her private distress, but what if this was the girl she had spotted at the club? Pale, young and yes, now she thought about it, frightened.
Riva tapped gently on the door. Nothing. She opened it just a crack. ‘Can I do anything to help?’
The girl just moaned and shook her head.
Riva pushed the door open a little further. ‘Won’t you let me get you some water?’
This time the girl nodded and lifted her face up, her eyes so puffy and rimmed with red that she looked as if she’d been crying most of the night.
‘Oh sweetheart,’ Riva said. ‘I haven’t got a hankie. Look I’m going to get you some water and a face flannel.’
The girl didn’t speak but sniffed and wiped her eyes and face with her hands.
A few moments later Riva was back, relieved that the door was still ajar. She padded in and placed a glass on the girl’s bedside table and handed her a damp flannel.
‘There. It’s clean. You’ll feel much better once you’ve wiped your face and drunk some water.’
The girl was compliant and did exactly as Riva suggested.
Riva looked around the room and spotted one small case and a couple of dresses hanging on a rail. When the girl had finished Riva asked her where she had come from.
‘Russia,’ the girl said and let out a wail.
Worried she was about to start weeping all over again Riva patted her hand. ‘I’m Riva,’ she said. ‘Will you tell me your name?’
